


i'm just a sucker, darling, i declare

by pocky_slash



Series: Daycare 'Verse [17]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: 5 Things, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-13
Updated: 2011-10-13
Packaged: 2017-10-24 14:22:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/264484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocky_slash/pseuds/pocky_slash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oh, I'm resigned, it's just as well / I lose my senses, I'm defenseless under your spell.<br/>(Five times Charles did something stupid/silly that Erik thought was adorable anyway (and wanted to smack himself for thinking such sappy thoughts).</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm just a sucker, darling, i declare

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sirona](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirona/gifts).



> **sirona** requested this in a five-things meme. Thanks to **brilligspoons** for looking it over. Title and summary from April Smith's "Can't Say No."

1\. It's been a little over three weeks since they met and a little over a week since Erik _finally_ got a chance to see Charles naked, and Erik is still not entirely sure how to process this relationship thing. It's been a long while since he spent so much time around one person, since he _wanted_ to, and he's not sure he's up on the latest do's and don't's of dating. He finds himself texting Charles nearly constantly, boring updates about the frustrations of his day, risque remarks he probably shouldn't be sending while Charles is at daycare, mindless observations about his life. It's like Charles is his own personal Twitter, and every time he goes to hit send, he pauses and wonders if he's appearing too clingy, too needy. Maybe he should dial it back.

But Charles, inevitably, responds as soon as he's able and initiates slightly more than half their conversations (not that Erik keeps careful tally or anything childish like that), so Erik begins to relax. Charles calls him every evening they don't spend together at precisely 6:15. Sometimes it's a brief call, sometimes they talk for hours, sometimes they sit in silence on the line as Erik channel surfs or watches whatever B-movie he can find on the SciFi Channel.

He gets particularly engrossed in the giant reptiles battling on his television, one evening, and is brought back to the present and reminded that he's on the phone by a gentle humming coming from the other end of the phone.

No, it's not humming, it's snoring. Charles is asleep and snoring and still holding the phone and that shouldn't be endearing, it really shouldn't, but now Erik is picturing Charles in his cluttered flat, curled up on his couch with the phone, eyes closed and probably drooling on the cushions and--

He reminds himself that it's a Thursday night and it's already ten pm and they both have to work in the morning. He reminds himself that putting down the phone and driving over to Charles' apartment to put him in bed is not a good idea.

Still, he can't hide the fondness in his voice when he murmurs, "Goodnight, Charles," and hangs up the phone.

***

2\. It was a minor adjustment, and really, Erik could have made his way home afterward _anyway_ , but his dentist insisted that he be supervised ("Just in case, Mr. Lehnsherr, I wouldn't want you to have a bad reaction to the anesthesia and end up dead in a ditch somewhere."), so Charles came with him.

And he's _fine_ , he just wishes Dr. Jimenez would finish up the paperwork so he can go home and count down the hours until he can eat and drink again.

"I could do my own dental work, you know," Erik says to Charles.

"Of course you could, my love," Charles says, but he's reading _Newsweek_ and Erik doesn't think he's really listening.

"There's, you know," he continues, determined to get Charles' attention. "Metal."

"I think you're thinking of orthodontics," Charles says. He flips a page in the magazine.

"Still," Erik says, but Charles isn't looking at him. He's not looking at the magazine, either, but at a little boy, probably around five or six, cowering in the corner, hidden behind a chair. Charles gets up, frowning. "Where are you going?" Erik asks. He reaches for Charles' arm and misses. "You're supposed to make sure I don't fall into a ditch and die."

"I will, I promise," Charles says, but he doesn't look back, instead kneeling in front of the boy's chair fortress. "My name's Charles," he says. "What's your name?"

"Adrian," the boy whispers.

"Are you afraid of going to the dentist too?" he asks. The boys' eyes widen.

"Yes," he says, his voice so soft Erik can barely hear it.

"I was, too," Charles tells him. "But I'll tell you a secret." He leans over and says something in the boy's ear that makes him giggle. Then Charles reaches into his messenger bag and pulls something out, which he hands to the little boy. Erik can't see what it is, but it makes the boy giggle again, and wiggle out from behind the chair.

"Now," Charles says, "you're going to be brave, right, Adrian?" The boy nods, and a woman not much older than Erik wanders out from reception.

"Adrian?" she calls, and the boy runs over to her.

"Good luck!" Charles says, and gets back to his feet, returning to the chair next to Erik.

"What was that?" Erik asks. He tries to gesture towards the boy, but lifting his arms is hard work.

"Oh, nothing," Charles says. "I had a stuffed caterpillar in my bag that I gave him. For courage."

"A stuffed caterpillar for _courage_?" Erik repeats. Even he can tell that's insane and he's _high_.

"I work with what I have," Charles says defensively. "And, you know, caterpillars, apples, doctors, dentists...it vaguely relates."

Erik shakes his head, but that really just makes him dizzy. He nearly falls out of his chair.

Charles levers him up, smiling indulgently and murmuring, "Let's get you home, darling," and the boy peeks around the corner from reception and waves shyly, one last time. Charles waves back and the only reason, the absolute only reason that Erik finds the fucking caterpillar thing so endearingly adorable is because he's high as a kite.

At least, that's his story.

***

3\. "I think you forgot something important," Erik says as he looks at Charles over the rim of his coffee mug. The pajamas Charles has on are not the ones he went to sleep in last night--actually, by the time Erik was done with him, he didn't end up sleeping in much of anything--but he's still packing his bags and his lunch wearing some blue striped flannel get-up and Erik can't resist mocking him.

"Very funny," Charles says, and reaches over to grab a banana from the bowl on the table. "It's Pajama Day."

"A very important holiday, I'm sure," Erik says. Charles makes a move like he's going to smack the back of his head, but instead his fingers end up curled around the base of Erik's skull, content to just tug his hair slightly.

"It makes them happy," he says, and leans over to kiss the crown of Erik's head.

"I'm sure you and Moira aren't exactly disappointed with a day in your pajamas either," Erik points out. He tries very hard not to project how hopelessly young and small and _cute_ Charles looks by focusing on the newspaper and drinking his coffee, but there's a gentle tendril of love and pleased affection curling through his mind and he thinks he probably failed.

***

4\. Charles is starting to go distinctly pink.

Erik doesn't blame him. The woman in front of them on the endless line to check out at the grocery store is a bigoted windbag who is making her views on the mutants in her son's class very clear. Erik, however, learned a long time ago that the beating that so many people so richly deserve isn't actually worth the assault charges, so he's been tuning her out rather well, playing solitaire on his phone.

Charles is twitching.

 _She doesn't know what she's talking about,_ he seethes and Erik leans absently against his shoulder.

 _Most people don't,_ Erik points out.

 _I can't believe you're so blase about this,_ Charles thinks. _Honestly, you're usually the one frothing into a muttering rage._

He's right, of course. Usually Erik would be making pointed comments under his breath, glaring sharply, internalizing the shouting he wants to be doing and then taking a trip to the gym this evening to punch his frustrations out after ranting full on to Charles about what imbeciles surround them.

 _It must be a zen day,_ Erik thinks after a moment of consideration. Of course, the fact that the woman is talking about education probably has something to do with why Charles is so upset and Erik is more interested in beating his high score.

 _She's so_ wrong _, it's just driving me_ crazy _and how can people even think like that? Like mutants are some how less deserving of a proper education, as if_ mutants _are the privileged party with everything stacked in their favor?_ Charles thinks sharply, his thoughts hot and mutinous.

"I don't know, dear," Erik says absently, flipping over a new card in his game.

"We're a diverse population!" Charles continues. "We have gifted students and students who are less academically inclined. With the exception of a few psychic-oriented abilities, a mutant's physical ability doesn't even effect their cognitive abilities, so how does the mere existence of a mutation have any bearing on what classes a child should attend? There's a difference between offering an additional course tailored to training mutants and...and...sequestering them away from the general population as if the x-gene is _catching!_ "

"Terrible," Erik agrees. And then looks up from his phone, frowning. The woman in front of them and her friend are both glaring at Charles. And Erik is rather sure that last bit of the rant was not just in his head.

"We are legally and _morally_ obligated to give our mutant children the same access to education as children without mutations." Charles doesn't seem to realize he's verbalizing. "'Separate but equal' is _not_ actually equal, as was decided by the Supreme Court _half a century ago_!"

"Charles," Erik says warningly, putting a hand on Charles' arm both to get his attention and to make it clear that if Ms. Bitchy McBigot decides to start anything, she'll have to contend with Erik as well.

"That's how _backwards_ some people are," Charles continues, unabated. "That's why we can't get anything done in this country, because people are too busy thinking about how to keep themselves untouched by anything different that they--"

"Charles," Erik says, more firmly, shaking Charles' arm. "You're speaking. Out loud."

"I--what?" Charles says. He looks at Erik. He looks at the women in front of him. "Oh dear," he says.

It shouldn't be cute. It shouldn't even be funny. But as Charles stammers apologies, wide-eyed and flushed from embarrassment, Erik has to hold in both his laughter and the urge to kiss Charles until he's smiling again.

***

5\. Erik's understanding of telepaths before he met Charles was that they were in, in general, cerebral people. They were used to using their minds for most communication, so they tended to keep their mouths shut. Erik liked that about telepaths, though he was never entirely comfortable with the idea of telepathy. Personally, he tried not to speak unless he had to and he appreciated others who embraced that philosophy, although the thought of anyone rifling around in his mind was troubling to say the least.

Charles is... a different creature all together.

For one thing, Erik doesn't mind Charles rattling around in his brain. In fact, after some quiet discussion about the exact breadth of Charles' powers and how, exactly, his mind operates when in contact with another mind, Erik has explicitly given him free reign. The result is a constant warmth at the very periphery of his consciousness, a vague presence that doesn't interfere with his private thoughts, but is always within shouting distance if he has something he wants to share.

The other difference between Charles and most other telepaths that Erik has met is that Charles _loves_ to talk. Charles will talk to anyone and anything that sits still long enough. Charles makes friends with strangers while standing on line at Starbucks, Charles learns the life story of the check-out clerks at the grocery story, and Charles gives education lectures to people stuck with him at crosswalks.

And, apparently, Charles keeps up a healthy dialogue with food while he's cooking.

Erik's no stranger to talking to inanimate objects. He keeps a running conversation with his computer, mostly consisting of threats, and has no problem snapping at random things that get in his way when he's in a mood.

But Charles chats cheerfully with his ingredients as he cooks in what would be a running commentary if he wasn't addressing his queries to the peppers and not to Erik.

"I thought you had a comrade in arms, but perhaps I put it in the chili last week," Charles says as he slices. "Oh well. I think five will be plenty, don't you? Yes, I think so. And we'll add an onion--I think you'll get along splendidly."

If Erik didn't know that Charles was simply _insane_ , he would have suspected Charles of attributing sentience to their dinner or, perhaps, possessing a secondary mutation that allowed disturbing dialogue with vegetables. But no, it's just _Charles_. Just another of the many off-beat and perplexing and aggravating and oddly adorable traits that make him who he is: Off-beat, perplexing, aggravating and, yes, oddly adorable.

"Oh, yes, wonderful, I knew you'd appreciate the onion! Look at you, you'll be lovely together."

And insane. Definitely insane.


End file.
